sugar high

I have not (so far) overdosed on sugar on Sunday exception day, so I'm calling this a victory.

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Things have been tedious around these parts lately. I am seriously bored with the car culture. Passing someone in a parking lot does not lead to interesting encounters, not like sitting on the side of the road waiting for a dalla-dalla to show up. It really is no wonder that Americans are crazy. We have so much time to think and stew.

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I had a long, hard day on Thursday, and when I went to advanced fighting class, I found the instructor beforehand to ask him what we were doing, because if it was boxing I was turning around and going home, because getting punched in the face would have made me cry. It wasn't. It was kicking. 100 of these kicks, 100 of those, three sets of 25 on each side of the other, one set of 25 double round-kicks on each side, and then 25 right-then-left round-kicks. Only today have I been able to contemplate moving my legs again. (Lie. I was fine.)

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Oh! I went up to Gone West last Sunday, to spend an afternoon with my friend D. from law school. It's really a very strange sensation to see someone who knew you in such a different context, because it reminds you of who you used to be. Remember when I spent my summers in Tanzania, Liberia, (South) Sudan? I miss that person. Now I am a person who has to ask for days of leave without pay to go to the Netherlands. (I remain, however, the person who will take leave without pay to travel. Oh, yes, I will.)

We wandered around Gone West on a perfectly typical Gone West day: it wasn't raining, but it could have been, but then it was sunny, but then not. That's just how it is. It was fun to show my favorite places to new people. I do love that town.

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Between the beginning and end of writing this post, I succumbed to addditional sugar. Oops. This is why Monday is always the hardest day of no-sugar. I crave it on Mondays, because my body got it the day before.